


Run

by SixtySevenChevy



Category: Doctor Who, Supernatural
Genre: Gen, i just have a thing for the cage ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-26 01:05:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SixtySevenChevy/pseuds/SixtySevenChevy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Doctor's daughter accidentally screws up a transportation and ends up in the Cage, and then decides to rescue the bleeding, broken man she finds there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Run

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday Kayla! I really liked writing this because I may or may not have a minor fixation on the Cage and what goes on inside. You rock. And roll. Actually I'm just repeatedly pushing you down a hill while you're unconscious, hoping you'll wake up soon. And now, the weather.

Adam is cold, and wet, and scared, but that’s nothing new. After all, he’s been in here for years now. He’s perfectly used to being burned, tortured, or simply ignored while Michael and Lucifer go at it for millennia at a time. After this many years, one becomes desensitized to violence and pain. Everything kind of goes over his head now. He figures he’s just broken irreparably, and leaves it at that. He simply doesn’t have the strength to be angry or upset anymore.

He’s currently huddling against a wall of brick in the dark. It’s raining, a cold rain that sinks into his bones and leaves him shaking. The wind is howling but the wall is helping to keep it off him. Every now and then there’ll be a resounding crack, or the high-pitched scream of a dying woman, or dark laughter from the shadows. Sometimes there’s singing, a clear tenor in a language Adam doesn’t understand or a guttural bass singing songs he recognizes from his childhood. He likes the tenor better.

There’s a new sound, an unfamiliar one, and he doesn’t remember to flinch. He hears footsteps but doesn’t look up. They’re unfamiliar too; not heavy and foreboding like Lucifer’s, and not quick and lithe like Michael’s. These are light and regular, tapping like the heels his mother used to wear with her long red skirt. 

“Hello? Is someone there?” It’s a woman’s voice, accented and clear. This time Adam does flinch, but he hides it with a shiver. In the distance, a child cries out in pain, and the woman gasps. “Hello?”

Adam doesn’t respond. He huddles deeper into himself, curling his fingers into the sleeves of his jacket and burying his nose in between his knees, feeling the rough fabric of his jeans become wet with his silent tears. He’s not sure why he still cries sometimes. Maybe he only does it to remember that he can.

The footsteps stop a few feet away, and Adam doesn’t bother to freeze. Michael and Lucifer know he’s there. If they want him they’ll get him. There’s no use in hiding.

“Oh, hello. Are you alright?” she asks, and takes a step forward. Adam doesn’t raise his head. He doesn’t do much of anything these days, just runs and screams and wishes he’s anywhere else. 

Her voice is soft and wary, like she’s speaking to a frightened animal or a lost child. “What’s your name?”

“Adam,” he replies, voice hoarse, because it’s better to go along with their games than to resist. “Adam Milligan. Who are you supposed to be?”

“My name is Jenny,” she replies gently, voice utterly lacking any real anger or fire or anything he’s gotten used to over the years. She’s blonde. Blonde and pretty and she’s kneeling in front of him with a concerned cast to her features, slight frown and eyes narrowed just the littlest bit, hands on her knees and staring at him with kindness and caring. He doesn’t understand.

“How long have you been in here, Adam?” she asks, soft and smooth and gentle.

“Forever,” he replies, because he doesn’t actually know, only that it’s been millennia and eons and other, greater measures of time that he can’t even comprehend. “Longer. I don’t know.”

She holds out a hand to him and he flinches, shutting his eyes against the pain that… isn’t coming. He opens his eyes slowly, seeing only her downturned features lit by the dim light, so sad. She isn’t moving, just holding that hand out to him, eyes peering into his without ill intent. Nothing about her suggests harm. He doesn’t trust it.

“Please come with me,” she pleads. “I know a way out of here. I can take you to someone who can heal your mind. I can save you.”

He stares at her outstretched hand with dead eyes, confused and distrustful and unsure. Jenny smiles at him encouragingly, and he slowly reaches out to take her hand. He knows it’s a bad idea and that it will only bring him further pain and suffering, that the promise of salvation is only there to be ripped away. He does it anyway.

Her hand is warm and soft in his, devoid of scars or callouses or imperfections. Her fingernails are blunt and smooth, fingers thin and long, wrist thrumming silently with life. He holds on as if by merely touching her he can communicate his repressed terror, his ignored pain, the slowly shattering pieces of everything he once was. Jenny clings to him like she’s afraid she’ll lose him if she lets go.

“Come with me, please,” she whispers, intense and hurried. Adam blinks three times and gets to his feet, never once letting go of that little hand. Her hands are so small. Small and soft and warm and unlike anything he’s touched in so long. “Run.”

They run together, side by side, Jenny and Adam. She leads and he follows, bare feet slapping against the rough wet floor that doesn’t really have an identifiable substance, heels clacking in time with his footsteps. She’s fast and lithe and not even out of breath when they stop, after sprinting for a solid ten minutes. 

“This way,” she breathes, voice hushed and warm in the cold rain. He follows, still holding her hand, clinging to that one little reminder of life. They’re slower now, creeping along instead of mad-dashing. Someone is singing in the distance, loud and drunken. _Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name…_

“Through here,” she whispers, and Adam follows without a second thought. The singing is loud in his ears, booming and off-key and horrible. Jenny has to lean very close for him to hear her. “The portal is right over here.”

She steps through a crack in the wall, not letting go of his hand once, and tugs on his hand. He follows her against his better judgment.

The light is blinding, stinging and piercing and drawing a low hiss from his mouth. Jenny murmurs in sympathy and apology and the lights dim a bit, enough for Adam to crack open his eyes. He sees a bed, covered with thick white blankets, and a window looking out over a river. The sky is blue above the river, and it smells of cinnamon, like the cookies his mom used to bake for the school’s bakesale fundraisers. 

“It’s okay. You’re safe now,” Jenny whispers. She doesn’t let go of his hand and he doesn’t make any move to do so either. Adam can hear water running, and soft instrumental music playing, and the low buzz of electronics. “This is my house. I accidentally did the transportation wrong and ended up in Cavae, which is what we call the place you were. Tomorrow we can go to Medela to get your mind fixed, okay?”

Adam nods because there’s nothing else he can do. “Thank you,” he whispers from between cracked lips. His hollow cheeks are quickly becoming coated with tears that mingle with the cold rainwater and run down to drip from his bruised chin. “Thank you so much.”

“Shh, rest,” Jenny hushes, and pushes him gently onto the bed. “Don’t worry about getting the bed dirty or bloody or anything. I can always get a new one, and you need to sleep.”

He does. He needs to sleep and he knows it. But he still doesn’t let go of her hand.

“I’ll stay right here. I won’t leave you. You’re saved now, Adam. I promise.” 

Adam falls asleep and doesn’t have nightmares.

**Author's Note:**

> cavae = cage in Latin  
> medela = heal in Latin  
> The song being sung is Sympathy For the Devil by the Rolling Stones if you were not already aware. And if you weren't, you should be. The song is awesome.


End file.
